...[T]hat lunatic monster...

 

...[T]hat lunatic monster...
--
On Adolf Hitler, volume II

 

Ingeborg Refling Hagen

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That I may reduce the monster to
Myself, and then may be myself
In face of the monster, be more than part
Of it, more than the monstrous player of
One of its monstrous lutes, not be
Alone, but reduce the monster and be,
Two things, the two together as one,
And play of the monster and of myself,
Or better not of myself at all,
But of that as its intelligence,
Being the lion in the lute
Before the lion locked in stone.

 

Wallace Stevens

 

I clearly see you a tapeworm, but not a cobra, not a cobra at all...no good at the flute! (…) I’ll go applaud you when you finally become a true monster, when you’ll have paid them, the witches, what you have to, their price, so they transmute you, blossom you, into a true phenomenon. Into a tapeworm that plays the flute. (To the Fidgeting Lunatic)

 

Louis-Ferdinand Celine

 

The city, that monster with a hundred mouths and a thousand ears, a monster that knows nothing but says everything, had written me off.

 

Jean-Dominique Bauby

 

Maria, you are a monster; you are not an artist nor a woman nor a human being, but a monster.

 

Maria Callas

 

The monster cried out at the tower. The foghorn blew. The monster roared again. The foghorn blew. The monster opened its great toothed mouth, and the sound that came from it was the sound of the foghorn itself.

 

Ray Bradbury